Meet Captain Americana
by Mikel Midnight
Summary: In an alternate reality in which big business dominates all, Richard Purcell is the most accomplished capitalist in the world, until he is called on by Merlin to defend the realm in a new way.


Captain Americana in, "Meet Captain Americana"

Richard Purcell's podcast was going worldwide to government leaders, businessmen, and to major media centers for editing and further dissemination on broadcast news, so he beamed his wide smile directly into the camera and, at appropriate points, brushed his blond hair back in a mannerism which he knew gave him aw-shucks sort of hominess.

"First of all, Alden Maas will close all his already existing Wonderworld centers. Then, Maas will proceed to purchase the entirety of central Africa. Think of the possibilities inherent in a whole amusement continent! Of course, the borders of the individual countries would have to be redrawn, perhaps in the shapes of interlocking Wonderworld characters. This would certainly be no worse than what we have now, which is borders drawn by Western imperial powers which completely ignore historical ethnic boundaries. Of course you might complain that this would involve wiping out many native cultures, so Maas has promised that a certain space be left behind with which to create Ethnoland, where famous scenes from native history and legends be displayed with realistic moving puppets, of the kind Maas is already so famous for. Of course things would have to be cleaned up a bit, but we never hear about those people over here anyway. One of the best things about this is that since Wonderworld already makes more money that most of these countries combined, it would solve all of the problems currently plaguing Africa, simply by employing everyone who currently lives there.

As a first step in this amazing plan, Maas will stage a contest, for the design of a completely new character, destined to take his place among Maxie Mouse, Hopalong Hippo, and the gang, but one who will be based on an actual African legend! Prize to be a lifetime free admission to the Wonderworld continent. Get cracking kids!"

As the cameras switched off, the crew burst into spontaneous applause. He grinned again, this time showing bashful charm. The negotiations on behalf of Alden Maas had been some of the toughest he had ever brokered; a coalition of African countries headed by Umbazi and Mbangawi had been his strongest competitor.

As he walked towards the exit, one of his clerical staff brought him the next day's appointment list. He glanced over it looking for the media interviews, and checked off the two most important: the PBS series _Geraldo's Manifest Destinies_, and the classic late-night tv show _Tricky Dick_. He never understood what had prompted Dick Nixon to abandon the life of politics to be a tv show host, though he granted that after the Goldwater presidential victory in 1964, the two spheres had gradually seemed increasingly aligned. His own career was testament to that.

He took the elevator down to the garage, and mounted his motorcycle to take him to Braddock Manor. The old castle had been a burned-out ruin for decades, but he had made it his home ever since his company, Americana Unlimited, had all but taken over the British media. As they flew over London, he looked down to witness the proliferation of American restaurants and shopping centers over the landscape. To his delight, even the teenagers had started to affect American accents. He sighed in satisfaction. The place was beginning to look like home. His future was set in stone.

The motorcycle headed out into the countryside, and he took a diversion past the area set aside as an historic marker for the ancient stone ruins known as Darkmoor. He slowed to appreciate the view. The area had never had the tourist appeal of Stonehenge, he mused, which is more the pity. I ought to do something about that. Maybe some pop band like the Rave Breakers could be contracted to do a dance track on the subject. He made a mental note to see what sort of souvenirs the local concession stands were selling; maybe their product could be sexed up a bit.

So lost in thought was he, that he almost didn't notice the fighter jet as it plumed out over the horizon.

The first explosion nearly threw him off of his motorcycle, and he glanced back, eyes wide in alarm. He started to zigzag along the road, looking for somewhere he could drive off which might provide concealment. The second explosion landed closer, and he skidded off the road and into the side canal.

He felt his head strike the ground, and lights flitted before his eyes. With a groan of pain, he shifted his limbs. His neck didn't appear to be broken, at least. He stumbled to his feet, and began to make his way across the forested area by the side of the road.

He found himself in Darkmoor.

As he walked among the stones, he noticed something he hadn't recalled reading about: inserted into the large centre stone, were the remains of a sword and shield. They were rusted and crumbling, and he contemplated how the ancient druids had been able to mould the stone about them.

He reached out to touch one of the implements, carefully so as not to chip away at the ancient metal. Suddenly there was a blinding light, and he cowered before the impossible spectre that conjured itself from the night. "Who ... ?" he gasped out as he beheld the long-bearded, robed figure.

"Once, I advised the protectors of the realm as they fought for truth and justice," said the spectral figure. "I was called Merlin. This land now needs a new protector, someone who encapsulates the spirit of the age." He gestured towards the man, "Richard Purcell, you are the one I have chosen."

Purcell blinked, "Listen ... Merlin, or whoever you are ... I don't know what you think you're talking about, but I'm not a protector of anything ... I'm just a businessman."

Merlin nodded, "In this age, the business of the realm _is_ business. You must choose the weapon you shall wield in your new role ... the sword or the shield."

Purcell approached again the center stone. He was halfway humoring the Merlin, and halfway operating on sheer instinct, unable to resist the call. As he came close to the weapons, he saw they were not so rusted as he had thought, but brilliantly gleaming and new. "The sword is a symbol of violence, but the best deals are done more through negotiation and not threat," he muttered. "Also, the sword is a generic image, whereas the shield with its concentric circles surrounding that weirdball symbol could be easily copyrighted." He reached out to touch it again, "I choose the shield!"

The shield came loose into his hand as he pulled it from the stone, and in another blinding flash of light, he found himself clad in a form of skintight armor which seemed to emblemise both the British and the American flags. "You shall be called Captain Americana," said the Merlin, "you have chosen well. Know that the shield you hold is constructed from pure photonic energy; it can be reshaped into a quarterstaff and has many other qualities. For the moment though: look to the skies."

His enhanced perceptions revealed to him that the fighter jet still flew overhead, and in response to a powerful instinct the shield reshaped itself into a quarterstaff ... the name 'star sceptre' came to him ... and pulled him into the air. The jet's pilot spotted him, and a unleashed a barrage of explosive bullets. The shield reformed itself, and deflected the onslaught. Captain Americana grinned to himself, and soared over to the cockpit. He tore open the protective windshield, and gasped as he recognised the pilot. "Basil Crushstone?"

The former African ruler glared up at him. "Back in Umbazi, they called me the Manipulator, but that bastard Purcell outmaneuvered me. I don't know who you are or why you're protecting him, but I'll kill you just as easily."

Crushstone reached for the controls again and the jet began to loop in the air, causing Captain Americana to lose his footing. He tumbled through the air, before reshaping the quarterstaff and soaring into pursuit. He landed on the aircraft's right wing, and thrust the end of the quarterstaff into its engine, delivering a charge of disruptive photonic energy. The pilot cursed as he started to lose control of the craft, and ejected himself as it began to tumble downwards.

Captain Americana followed the chair upwards, expecting to catch hold of the parachute, but was caught by surprise as the thronelike chair propelled itself independently towards him. Powerful twin laser beams mounted in the armrests fired towards him, aimed directly at his heart. Despite the searing pain, his chainmail armor held true, preventing him from being cut in half before he was able to raise his shield to protect himself.

He arced up and behind the Manipulator, the shield transforming again into a quarterstaff, and he struck out at the throne's propulsion units. It began to spiral out of control, followed by a trail of curses from its pilot. Captain Americana followed it down, hooking the quarterstaff into the bracing mechanisms at the rear of the throne and lowering it safely down to Earth.

With a grunt, he finally released the chair and circled around to confront his opponent. "Listen you," he said, grabbing hold of the other's cloak and pulling him out of the throne, only to shout in pain as he discovered it was rigged to deliver a powerful electric shock. Still reeling, he did not resist as the Manipulator reached into his belt to remove a small, shining bauble, and proceeded to shine light from it into Captain Americana' eyes.

"My mystic gem will brainwash you as it did all the others in Umbazi who questioned my reign," the Manipulator said as he saw Captain Americana slump to the ground. "First, let us see whom Purcell has employed as his bodyguard. Remove the helmet, fool."

The Manipulator's eyes widened as he saw the visage of his foe. He sat back on his throne and tossed a carbon-paper notebook to the Corpsman. "Take a letter," he said, dictating terms under which he would accept the surrender of Purcell's Wonderworld interests to himself. He leaned forward, signed the contract, and then instructed Purcell to do so as well. When completed, he tore out the carbon sheets and tossed them at his opponent for him to ponder in his despair, and soared off in his throne to his London headquarter.

Captain Americana watched the Manipulator ascend. He'd heard rumors of the man's 'mystic gem,' and was grateful that the helm granted him by Merlin allowed him to resist its influence. Crushstone would be upset when he read the document he'd actually signed. Still, he didn't expect to hear from the man again. Umbazi was now to be the center of the area chosen for the prestigious Maxie Mouse border, and Crushstone's future income would derive from his effective management of its assets, as well as his continued agreement not to discuss this contract publically.

It was a large concession to a powerful foe, but Captain Americana appreciated a tough negotiator. Superheroing wasn't a zero-sum game after all, he thought.

* * *

Richard Purcell, Alden Maas, Basil Crushstone, and Alan Davis character illustration trademark and copyright Marvel Comics Inc.

"The Rave Breakers" was a name briefly used by Spinal Tap.

The televisual and political background as discussed in paragraph five are derived from 'Fellow Americans' by Eileen Gunn.


End file.
